My cock was hard, yearning a hollow ache, something primitive, something with an appetite. ‘Are you perving at my legs?’ she asked, with no hint o... objection in her voice. The primordial tug came again, more urgent, insistent when I watched her squirm her rump on my settee, gangly as a colt. Her eyes and smirk teased me. ‘You got a thing for legs?’ I could have whined when she, in what seemed to be a deliberately provocative gesture, wriggled so the hem of her skirt rose higher and exposed the. She reached into a cabinet and pulled out a mask. With me struggling and begging she pulled it over my eyes and mouth. A leather hood covered my head and was laced tight to mould itself to my features. For a moment I struggled for air before she unplugged the brass mouth opening. I felt her strong hands hold my head as she screwed something else over my mouth and into the mask. Then a wrench and a tube penetrated my open mouth and forced its way over my tongue. “Don’t try to talk my bitch, that. More

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